(When we were together, my husband would tell me who I could talk to, where I could go, how I could cut my hair… basically how I could exist within his life. I told myself he was just protecting me and I should respect his decisions. When we would talk about upcoming plans — work, spending time with my family, etc. — he would say we never talked about it. I brushed it off for a while because I told myself he was just focused on other things. This is the story of when I’d had enough. A few weeks before this conversation, I csme up with what I thought was a foolproof way to avoid the “you never told me” conversation.)

Me: “Okay, I’m heading out. I’ll see you later. I love you!” *leans in for a kiss*

Husband:*backs away* “Where are you going?”

Me: “Uh, out shopping with my sister.”

Husband:*exasperated* “Why don’t you ever tell me your plans?”

Me: “I did.”

Husband: “NO. You didn’t.”

Me: “I did. We were making dinner on Sunday night and I told you–”

Husband: “You did not. You’re not going.”

Me: “Are you telling me I can’t go see my sister because you don’t remember a conversation?”

Husband: “I’m telling you that you can’t go because you’re always making plans and not telling me about them until you’re halfway out the door, and I’m sick of it!”

Me: *frustrated* “That’s not true.”

Husband: “It f****** is true!”

Me: “I told you!”

Husband: “Prove it and you can go.”

Me: “Okay.”

(I pull out my phone and open our text conversation. There, on Sunday night, around the time we would have been making dinner, is a message from me, to him. It reads, “I’m going shopping with my sister on Friday.”)

Husband: “Doesn’t count.”

Me: “And why not?”

Husband: “Because you can’t just text me and expect me to read it!”

Me: “You… You’re not serious right now.”

Husband: “I am serious!”

Me: “You will call me repeatedly until I pick up, but you aren’t expected to read a f****** text message?”

Husband: “I have a full-time job! I run this house! I can’t be expected to look at my phone all the time like you do!”

Me: “Okay.”

(That was the last time we had a remotely civil conversation. I will miss the good times we had, but living like someone’s blow-up doll is no life.)